Dirty Little Secret
by Irish Thorn
Summary: Just a little one-shot to get the creative juices flowing. An affair between the Minister for Magic and his Senior Undersecretary. Very little actual plot.


_A/N: This is just a one-shot to help get the creative juices flowing. I hope you enjoy._

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She ran down first one flight of stairs and then another, being ever-conscientious of the stiletto heels that she'd recently grown accustomed to wearing on a consistent basis. She had her arms full of paperwork, not the least bit organized, jumbling around everywhere, precariously teetering on the edge of being dropped. Her hair was pulled up into a professional French Twist, complete with copious amount of bobby pins holding it in place. She was wearing a lavender blouse beneath her black dress jacket, tucked neatly into her pencil skirt, as well as a pair of black stockings; that was all covered, however, by the plum colored robe worn by the Wizengamot. In short, she was the perfectly polished professional that she should be in the position that she currently held within the Ministry: The Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.

She was quite out of breath by the time she made it to her destination, taking not more than a moment to breathe before pushing open the large, heavy door. Her entrance went mostly unnoticed by the majority of the people in the room, with only the Minister himself glancing her way. She threw him a small smile, barely a twitch of her mouth, as she slid into the seat next to him. The proceedings hadn't halted at the intrusion, and, after listening for a moment to what was being said, she realized that she hadn't missed much.

While the fool on the dais, currently strapped to the medieval, straight-backed wooden chair continued to blather on, she calmly slid one of the documents she'd brought into the Minister's waiting hand. He glanced at the words on the page, taking the time to flip to the second, then the third page of said document before holding his hand up in what is a clear demand for the prisoner to stop speaking. He does. Everyone waits with baited breath for what will happen next. Will the Minister give details that would result in a blood-thirsty ruling, one that will please the scads of pureblood politicians sitting on the Wizengamot? Or will it be information that results in a kind, fair ruling, the likes of which would make any Order of the Phoenix member proud?

"Mr. Potter, I hold in my hand a document that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you've been rallying a resistance against the Ministry. What do you say to these allegations?" The Minster looked almost bored, but not so of the remaining members of the Wizengamot, the whole lot of them leaning forward in their seats. Not a sound could be heard in the large chamber, aside from the ruffle of papers being passed around so that the members could see the documents detailing Harry Potter's downfall, full of some of the most influential witches and wizards of the time; no one wanted to be the first to break the silence, the one to call attention to them self.

"I have nothing to say to the allegations." Harry Potter sat proudly in the middle of the room, everyone looking down at him. He'd been in that exact position before, many years ago, prior to his fifth year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; he was not afraid, although perhaps he should be, as Albus Dumbledore wouldn't be swooping in to save him this time.

"Then we must vote upon your sentence without any testimony against the evidence obtained. All those whom find Mr. Harry Potter guilty of the crimes of inciting a riot and rallying a resistance against the government, say 'aye'." There was a loud chorus of 'ayes' to be had, echoing around the chamber, from the sea of plum-colored robes. "All opposed, say 'nay'." There was not a single 'nay' heard, not even from that of the Minister's Senior Undersecretary. "Mr. Potter is found guilty by unanimous vote; he will be sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban with possibility of parole after fifteen years. Aurors, please take him away." The former war hero went without any fuss, keeping his head high during the forced march out of the room.

There was much whispering from those assembled; he was in prison. That should quell any other rebels from attempting to overthrow the government. It was rather a farce of a trial, more symbolic than anything. Harry Potter was always going to be found guilty; he was the leader of the resistance and in the opinion of the ministry: he didn't deserve a trial at all. If there were still stirrings heard of uprisings, the Weasley family would be the next to end up in Azkaban.

"Wizengamot adjourned." The Minister was the first to stand, gesturing for his Senior Undersecretary to follow. She hopped up out of her chair, having already tucked all of the documents she'd been jostling around into the briefcase that'd she'd sat at her feet earlier in the day. She held onto that briefcase with one hand, quickly following the Minister out of Courtroom thirteen and up towards the stairs.

They were up the stairs and in the lift taking them to the first floor of the Ministry of Magic, back toward their offices, before the rest of the assembled witches and wizards could reach them. The Minister didn't say a word to the woman with him, choosing to stay silent until they were in relative privacy. As fast as the lifts are though, they were back in the Minister's office in no time at all. The door was closed, locked, and silenced behind them, the Minster walking over to where he keeps his stash of good firewhiskey in the bottom of the cabinet next to the sideboard. He poured them each two fingers, clinked his glass against hers, and they both threw back the drinks in one go. She slid the plum robes off of her person, tossing them over near the davenport, her briefcase already abandoned.

"That went better than expected. Did you hear him try to use the Weasleys as an alibi?" She scoffed at that, "As if we didn't already know that they were involved."

"Well you were brilliant, my dear." The Minister pulled his Undersecretary closer to him, pressing her body flush against his, the familiarity of the move, the two fitting perfectly together as if they were always supposed to be there. She tilted her face up towards him, accepting his kiss. The feel of his warm lips on hers caused her nipples to tighten in anticipation and her mouth to open on a moan. He took advantage of that, slipping his tongue into her hot mouth and pushing her back against his desk.

He lifted her left leg, pressing his quickly growing erection against the apex of her thighs. This startled another moan out of her and, wrapping her leg more firmly around his waist, she ground herself against him. He reached up, wrapping his hand in her hair and roughly pulling her head back to expose her neck. He peppered rough little bites all up and down the column of her neck, reaching his other hand down to slip between them.

He could feel how wet she was through her panties, and shoved her skirt up higher so he could remove the offending article. He broke apart from her enough to remove her panties, unbuckling his belt, pushing down his trousers, and pulling out his erection all in one practiced move. He pumped his hand over himself a couple of times, watching the wanton vixen that was now sitting on his desk lick her lips in anticipation. He pulled her to the edge of his desk by a grip on her thighs, wrapping them around his waist. He positioned himself at her entrance and entered her in one thrust. He didn't give her time to get accustomed to his size, as many times as they'd done this, he knew she wouldn't protest.

She gasped at the initial intrusion, and he leaned down to swallow the sound with his mouth. She was leaning back on her hands on the desk, unable to reach up and run her fingers through his long, beautiful hair like she usually did. He didn't stop in his unrelenting thrusting, feeling her velvety walls close in around him; she was already so close.

He reached down between them, brushing his thumb against her clit, once, twice, three times… And she was coming undone beneath him, screaming his name in her release. When she collapsed back onto the desk, unable to hold herself up any longer, he continued to thrust in and out, chasing his own climax, watching her breasts bounce with each jerk of his hips. It wasn't long before he was grunting her name with his own release. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, before he helped her sit up on the edge of the desk.

He kissed her languidly, savoring the taste of her. She reached up and took the time to twine her fingers into his luxuriously smooth hair, untying the ribbon that kept it in immaculate place. He was holding her in place with a hand to the back of her neck. She was his dirty little secret, the one thing that he shouldn't have, but did as often as he could. She knew the name of the game, discretion. They never acted any differently in public; it wouldn't do for his wife to get wind of anything amiss. Someday he hoped that they could be more than just Minister and Senior Undersecretary. He hoped that they could present themselves to the world. Alas, that just wasn't meant to be. For that to happen, his wife of nearly thirty years would need to die. Then, after an appropriate mourning period, he could come out with this lovely young woman on his arm.

She was the one that broke the kiss, pushing him back so that she could stand. She smoothed her skirt back down, tucked her blouse into place. She was sure her hair was a mess, but one look at the man before her and he waved his wand to fix it. That was one thing about being with a man whom had more hair than she did, he was always good for knowing which spells would keep her hair in some semblance of order.

"Well, I suppose I should get back to work. Someone has to file the paperwork from today's hearing." She grabbed her robes and briefcase from where they had been tossed carelessly across the room, stopping to give him one more quick kiss on her way to the door.

"Of course, Miss Granger. Do try to have that done before you leave for the day. I'm sure you won't disappoint me," He gave her a smoldering look full of double meaning, "And I expect you in my office first thing in the morning, I have a meeting with the Headmistress of Hogwarts and will need you here to take notes." It was a clear dismissal, even though she was already leaving, he did like to think that everything was his idea. She smirked at him, knowing what he was trying to do.

"Yes, Lu-, er, Minister Malfoy. I'll be here." She waved her wand, walked out the door and back to her desk. They both knew that that meeting wasn't until ten o'clock. That would give them plenty of time to "strategize" prior to the meeting. She sat down at her desk, her office just around the corner from the Minster's, and began pulling files from her briefcase.

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 _A/N: Please let me know what you think. Did you figure out whom was involved before the end? Or were you surprised when you did get to the end? Let me know!_


End file.
